


Please You

by killerqueer



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BILL IS EMBARRASSED, Bisexual Bill Denbrough, Clubbing, Gay Bar, Gay Stanley Uris, M/M, Modern AU, bill buys condoms and stan is the cashier, they are adults, vaguely nsfw but not anything too wild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 10:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12885954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerqueer/pseuds/killerqueer
Summary: Bill Denbrough is not having a great week. He's twenty-two years old, he just came out to his parents about being bisexual last week and they didn't take it well, and now his ex girlfriend, best friend, and roommmate Bev is forcing him out of the apartment to go to a gay bar. Because according to her, it's about time, and what's the point of coming out if he's not going to try and meet any men? Unfortunately for him, when he shows up at CVS to buy condoms (just in case), the cashier is ridiculously beautiful (and flirtatious), and Bill wants to melt into the floor. He leaves the store feeling thoroughly humiliated, but that's not the end of his night with this curly haired angel.Based on this hc/prompt from my group chat: "stenbrough hc where bill buys condoms and stan is working register,, bill is EMBARRASSED thats all"





	Please You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Donvex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donvex/gifts).



> Hey everybody!! Like I said in the summary, this is based on a prompt/hc from my group chat and [SamJ is also writing a fic about it!! You should all go read it!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12863826/chapters/29380257).
> 
> This one kind of got away from me haha, and definitely took a life of it's own/strayed away from my intentions, but I'm really happy with how it came out! I hope you all like it ❤️ Thanks also to Donvex who is my Bill inspiration/muse ❤️

Bill is looking over his shoulder anxiously as he steps through the automatic doors of the CVS down the street from the address Bev had suggested to him that morning. He knows it’s silly to feel anxious about someone seeing him here. People come to CVS for all sorts of things - there's no way they would know _why_ he was there. But he can't help but feel like _"I'm here to buy condoms!"_ was written in thick black marker across his forehead.

Ducking his head and trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible, he sticks to the far walls of the store and walks through the cosmetics aisle until he reaches the back and walks a few aisles down until he gets to the healthcare section. He looks down the aisle and it seems to stretch for miles. Taking a deep breath and reminding himself it was perfectly normal for a twenty two year old man to buy condoms with his own goddamn money, he takes his first few steps. His feet carry him down to where the familiar logos stare back at him. There are a lot more options than he realized and he can't believe that he’s made it this far in his life without ever having to purchase them himself.

Back in high school, Bev had them on hand, and then in college Audra was always prepared. But now it’s up to him and he is overwhelmed to say the least. He finds himself reaching for a box of Trojans and jumps when his overzealous hand accidentally knocks four other boxes to the floor. His face feels hot and he is sure his ears are fire engine red at this point. He quickly shoves all the boxes back onto the shelf, shooting a cursory glance at the last one which proves to be a multipack. That will have to do, he decides, because if he had to stand here much longer he might actually explode from embarrassment.

As he walks past the condoms, he could hear Bev's voice ringing in his ears:

_"Oh and don't forget lube - you don't wanna be caught in a sticky situation without it!"_

He can feel himself turning red again as he pictures her lascivious wink, and tries not to think too hard about what she meant by a ‘sticky situation’.

He quickly grabs a bottle of lube off the shelf, before all but scurrying to the cash register. As he waits in line, studiously avoiding making eye contact with anyone, he tries to discreetly grab a few magazines and snacks from the queue, hoping to maybe disguise his purchase a bit. As the line moves forward, he clutches the items to his chest, magazines on the outside in an attempt to hide the condoms and lube, and he bites his lip, looking around the store and tapping his foot in what he hoped was a laid back, casual manner.

The voices of the people in front and behind him are getting to be somewhat overwhelming and all he can think about is that they’re staring at him. Logically, he knows that that’s ridiculous, but he doesn’t think he has ever been this embarrassed in his life.

And then he hears the cashier call “Next!” and he realizes that it’s him they’re talking to.

He looks up and sees the most beautiful boy he thinks he has ever seen in his life, wearing a stupid navy polo and a name tag and still looking like a goddamn angel. His heart simultaneously begins slamming against his chest while plummeting to his stomach.

 _‘Fuck,’_ he thinks to himself as he takes a few weak steps forward.

A thoroughly embarrassed grimace is spreading across his face in the place of a smile as the cashier watches him fumble with the items in his arms, with a raised eyebrow. He is doing his best to ensure that the magazines and other items are on top of the condoms and lube in an attempt to make it seem like _they_ were the afterthought, not the other way around, but he has a feeling he isn’t doing a very good job.

“Welcome to CVS,” the cashier says with an amused smirk after a moment of eyeing the items on the counter, eyebrow still firmly raised. “How are you this evening?”

Bill wants to die. He wants to disappear, evaporate, fucking spontaneously combust.

“F-fuh-ine,” he all but squeaks instead.

His heartbeat is increasingly anxious as he watches the cashier... _Stan_ , the nametag tells him, picking up the magazines and giving them a bemused once over. Bill’s heart sinks to his stomach when he sees what he had picked up - the latest issue of Cosmo and a stupid gossip rag. He could only watch as Stan licks his lips briefly before holding up the copy of cosmo.

“Big fan of _Cosmo_?” he asked, a teasing, but not unfriendly smile playing on his lips.

Bill forced out a weak laugh as he looked at the cover for the first time. _‘Confidence now!’_ in cursive across the body of the model or whoever she was on the cover, and then a headline in the top corner that said in big bold letter:

 **“Teach a Guy to Please** **YOU** **!”**

Bill stares at the magazine wide eyed for a moment before glancing back up at Stan like a deer in headlights.

“Oh uh, it’s, uh,” he stammered, feeling his ears getting pink again as he tried to offer Stan an awkward shrug. “It’s f-f-fuh-for a f-fuh-friend,” he tried to explain, but Stan just smiled slyly and looked back down at the computer, as he scanned the two magazines and dumped them in a bag, along with the snacks that bill had grabbed.

Which were apparently Sunflower seeds and sour straws.

And _oh god_ , Stan was picking up the box of condoms now and was _reading the fucking back of the box_. It’s right then and there when Bill decides that he’s going to kill Beverly Marsh.

He wonders for a moment what would happen if he just left right now, leaving this impossibly cute boy with his condoms and lube and just going home. But he doesn’t get a chance to make a decision, because Stan is talking to him again.

“These for your ‘friend’ too?” Stan asks him, and all Bill wants to do is just nod and go along with it, but he’s too flustered to lie and just finds himself shaking his head ‘no’.

“Nice selection,” Stan says and Bill _has_ to be imagining things because there is no way this CVS cashier just winked at him while holding the box of condoms he was trying to purchase. “I’m partial to the cherry flavour myself,” he continues, as he rings up the condoms, quickly followed by the lube and they both disappear into the bag with the magazines and snacks as Bill stares at him, open mouthed with shock.

“That’ll be $28.95,” Stan says, seeming totally nonplussed by the fact that Bill is openly staring at him.

“Oh, uh, r-right,” Bill stammers, quickly looking down to pull his wallet out of his back pocket and fumbles with his card as he pulls it out, dropping it onto the floor. He couldn’t believe he had felt so embarrassed just from standing in line, because this entire interaction was on a whole different level.

He bends over, reaching to pick up the card off the floor and when he stands, he sees Stan watching him with an appreciative look on his face that makes Bill feel like he’s standing naked in the middle of the checkout line. He holds up the card in an attempt at nonchalance, and he hands it across the counter. He can’t help noticing Stan’s long, thin fingers with awe as he takes the card from Bill’s hands.

Bill watches as Stan slides the card and stares at the screen. He can’t tell if the computer is really running slowly, or if his anxiety was just slowing time to a standstill but after a longer pase than he can really bear, the machine lets out an angry sounding _beep_.

“Do you have another card?”

He feels like he might cry. What has he ever done in his life to deserve this?

“What?”

“Do you have another card?” Stan repeats, still smiling but this time Bill can see a hint of amused pity in his eyes. He’s sure Stan can tell how humiliated he feels and it just makes everything ten times worse. “It didn’t go through.”

“Oh, uh, w-wuh-would you muh-mind running it again?” He winced. “It sh-should be all s-set…” he trailed off helplessly, as Stan looked at him for a moment but obliged.

This time after another ridiculously stressful moment of waiting, the machine lets out another, more approving beep, and Stan smirks at him once more, pointing at the verifone on the counter, for him to sign. Bill smiles back gratefully, grabbing the stylus and scrawling his name on the screen before pressing the green button just a bit harder than really necessary.

As the receipt begins printing, he looks up to see Stan looking at his card, but when Bill catches his eye, he merely throws Bill a flirtatious grin.

“Do you want your receipt?” he asks, holding up Bill’s bag.

“Oh, n-no,” he mumbles. “N-n-no thank you,” he adds, confused at what looks like disappointment on Stan’s face.

But it doesn’t stay there for long, as Stan shrugs and hands him the bag and his card, with another wink, and this time Bill knows he wasn’t imagining it.

“Have fun tonight, Bill,” he grins, and Bill almost drops the bag then and there, but catches himself and just nods awkwardly instead.

“Uh, thanks,” he says quietly. “Yuh-you too,” he stammers out before turning on his heel and all but running out the automatic doors of the pharmacy. It isn’t until he’s leaning against the wall of the building trying to catch his breath that he realizes that Stan had been reading his card to find out his name.

He pulls out his phone and opens up a new text to Beverly.

_“I’m going to kill you.”_

* * *

 

After making a pit stop at his shared apartment with Bev to change, Bill is hardly feeling better. She laughs herself silly at the story of Bill’s humiliating exchange with the hot cashier at CVS, and didn’t take any pity on him. She simply told him that he’d probably never see this guy again (somehow this only made the sinking feeling in Bill’s stomach worse), and then pushes him onto his bed while she rummages through his closet for something that is, in her words, _‘decently fuckable’_.

Apparently this is not an easy task in Bill’s closet full of flannels and denim.

“ _You_ d-duh-didn’t seem to have a h-hard time fucking me,” he grouses at her as she rolls her eyes at yet another red and black flannel that she throws unceremoniously on the floor.

“We were seventeen, Bill,” she replies with a long suffering roll of her eyes. “I didn’t know any better,” she teases, and he sticks his tongue out at her. “Besides, you’re going to a gay bar, you’re not trying to pick up straight women at some random townie shit hole.”

In the end she stuffs him into a pair of her own skinny jeans, insisting that they make his ass look fantastic and finds him a button down that he somehow still has from when they were teenagers so it’s _just_ barely too tight but not significantly uncomfortable.

She sends him on his way and after a short uber ride into downtown, he’s standing in across from Blackstones. According to Bev, it’s the oldest gay bar in Portland, and Bill is terrified to go inside. He really isn’t sure if this was the best thing for him tonight, but Bev had insisted.

 _“Come on,”_ she needled him. _“You’ve done nothing but mope all week, and I’m sorry that your family didn’t take the news well, but you need to have some fun.”_

Bill knows that she has his best intentions at heart, but ‘not taking it well’ it a bit of an understatement when it came to how his parents had reacted to him coming out of the closet. He thinks he’s earned the right to hibernate, thank you very much.

It doesn’t matter now though, because the bouncer at the door has already noticed him and is leering at him in a way that he would expect to find creepy, but is somehow exciting. There’s a line of men outside the door to the club, some of them making out against the wall, others hanging off of each other and laughing, and they all look so comfortable with themselves.

After the evening he’s had, he feels like a rubber band that is about to snap.

“Come here, honey!” a voice calls, and Bill almost jumps out of his skin when he hears it and realizes that the bouncer is waving him to the door. He stares wide-eyed and starts pointing at himself, shooting the tall, muscular man at the door a look of _‘Who, me?’_. As the man begins to laugh and nod, Bill can feel the flush building on his neck and face as he looks over his shoulder once more. When he realizes that everyone else in the area is here for the same thing he is, he doesn’t really know what he should be so afraid of anymore. He takes a deep breath and makes his way across the street.

“You got an ID, sweetheart?” the bouncer asks, smiling broadly at Bill, and up close Bill can see the thick eyeliner around his eyes. He can hear the music thumping through the walls and he tries not to let it intimidate him. He thinks about how this is probably more Bev’s scene than his.

“I, um…” he starts, looking at the velvet rope that the man is unclipping, but still holding in front of him while he waits for an answer. “I d-duh-d...I..wasn’t waiting in l-line…” he replies, looking guiltily over his shoulder at the people waiting behind him.

“That don’t matter,” he said, holding a hand out expectantly. “Is it your first time at a place like this?” he asks knowingly.

“That obv-v-vious, huh?” Bill replies, scratching at the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“Just a little,” he says with a grin. “You just looked so cute over there, I had to get you to come in. Beside, you’re even finer up close than you are from across the street.” Bill flushes at that, and ducks his head as he reaches for his wallet to pull out his ID. “I don’t even mind the stutter, baby,” he finishes with a smirk as he takes Bill’s license.

Bill grimaces politely back. He knows the other man is just trying to be friendly, and tries not to let it bother him, but he wishes people wouldn’t say things like that as if it made them so _generous_. But the bouncer doesn’t seem to notice Bill’s lack of enthusiasm.

“Cover’s ten dollars, sweetie,” he says and Bill tries not to look too surprised. It’s not like he’s never paid to get into a bar before, and he fumbles for a ten dollar bill in his wallet, which the bouncer takes and holds the velvet rope aside for him. “Have a good time, hon,” he says with a parting wink, as Bill takes another deep breath and opens the door.

The music is even louder inside, and he can feel it vibrating in his ears as the beat pounds and ricochets off every available surface. He stands in the entryway for a moment before a group of men stumbling in behind him pushes him out of the way and he makes his way to the wall, trying to scope out the area in search of the bar.

It’s against the perpendicular wall, across the room from where a tall, gangly, but cute man with messy dark curls is hunched over the turntables, and Bill has two options. He can try and make his way around the perimeter which is already littered with couples pressing each other against the walls or he can push through the dance floor. Neither are options he’s thrilled about, but he guesses he’d rather stumble into someone dancing in the dark, than someone who might have their hand down someone else’s pants, so he steels himself for the crowd.

By the time he’s made it through the crowd, he’s had more sweaty bodies’ pressed against him in the span of two minutes than he has in two years and has seen multiple men pulling their shirts off as they grind against each other. A huge, older, burly man with a hairy chest had tried to grab him by the hips, but Bill was able to narrowly escape, heart thumping wildly, when another man stumbles into the first and knocks him off balance.

And finally he’s past the dancers and is now in another tightly knit, but not nearly as overwhelming queue surrounding the bar.

The bartender is tall and beautiful, with dark skin and tight curls cropped short around his head and shimmering cheekbones. Bill blushes at the sight of his skin tight cropped purple v-neck and shoves his hands in his pockets nervously, waiting for his turn to order.

People are shoving to get drinks and he’s much too anxious to stand his ground when people push past him, but it ends up serving him well, when the queue dies down momentarily and a man to his left is pulled onto the dance floor.

Gratefully, Bill falls into the now vacant bar stool, and slumps over the glossy wooden surface in front of him, feeling comforted enough by the cool bar against his forehead that he doesn’t mind the slight stickiness.

“You look like you could use a drink,” says a smooth deep voice, and Bill sits up immediately, embarrassed, only to find the handsome bartender standing in front of him.

Bill smiles weakly, and lets out an anxious laugh as he nods.

“Can I g-get um…” he starts, looking anxiously around the bar. He probably shouldn’t get a ‘Gansett here...the guys at this bar probably wouldn’t find the fact that he drinks shitty beer endearing the way Bev and Ben do. “O-one of those, I g-guh-guess?” he asks, pointing down the bar at a red and orange drink another man is sipping from.

“Sure thing,” the bartender smiles, and Bill has the feeling this guy can see right through him. He also finds that he doesn’t really mind. The bartender seems like he’s not the type to judge people, and Bill appreciates that.

While he waits, he looks back out at the dance floor. It’s not that he doesn’t like dancing he just...he had planned on staying home tonight and working on the story he had started over the weekend and Bev wouldn’t even come with him tonight, insisting he’d have a harder time _‘pulling’_ if he had his high school girlfriend hanging around him.

“Here you go,” the bartender says warmly, reappearing in front of him like magic and placing the drink down on a napkin. He shakes his head as Bill pulls out his wallet. “This one’s on the house,” he says and nods at Bill to put his wallet away. “Looks like you could use it.

Bill smiled gratefully, and thanks him, making a big show of putting his wallet back in his pocket as the man watches him intently.

When he turns around to help another customer, Bill quickly pulls out a five and a few ones and places them on the counter before getting up and taking a long sip of the drink. It’s sweet and fruity - not what Bill would ever drink normally, but he drinks the rest of it down like water a few moments later, unable to taste the alcohol.

He quickly puts the glass back down on the counter and it doesn’t take long before his whole body feels lighter and a warm happy feeling is resonating in his chest.

If he could get just one more of those, he might be able to get himself on the dance floor and then he can go home, tell Bev that he danced and had a good time and maybe she’d leave him alone about leaving the apartment for awhile.

Happy with that plan, he turns on his heel and begins making his way to where the bartender is chatting up another customer before he knocks directly into someone who is turning away from the bar.

Alcohol is spilling down the shirt of the man in front of him who is stumbling backwards, and Bill has only a split second to think before he reaches out to to catch the other’s wrist to steady him. He looks up from their joined hands to the wet splotches on his shirt, his gaze finally trailing up to the face of the man he’d bumped into and he almost has a heart attack right there in the middle of the club.

Standing in front of him is Stan. The cashier from the pharmacy, except he’s ditched his khakis and navy polo for impossibly short shorts, and a ridiculously tight white t-shirt that was now practically sheer from the drink that had splashed onto his chest. His curls, still as tidy as they were when he had seen him earlier in the evening, were lit up in the flashing lights and it surrounded his angular face with a hazy purple glow that had Bill’s heart catching in his throat.

And speaking of his face, Bill was realizing that he was looking pretty fucking annoyed and shit, he had literally just knocked the man’s drink out of his hand and hadn’t even _apologized_ , what the fuck was wrong with him?

“Oh, g-god,” he began, and proceeded to apologize profusely. “I’m _s-suh-so_ sorry, holy shit, I’ll b-buh-b-buy you a new drink, I s-swear!”

 _‘Also I definitely wasn’t just staring at you and your beautiful face for an inappropriate amount of time before offering,’_ he thinks to himself sarcastically. He wants to kick himself.

Recognition lights up Stan’s face and the annoyed expression melts back into the flirtatious smirk he had been wearing in the pharmacy, but Bill is too busy stumbling over his words to notice.

“Come on, lets go to the b-buh-bathroom and we can try to cl-clean you up,” Bill continued, grabbing Stan’s hand and turning around to scan the room. His shoulders slumped in defeat quickly though, and he turned back to Stan, who was staring at him with an amused and expectant expression.

“I...I duh-don’t know where the b-b-bathroom is,” he admitted, letting go of Stan’s hand. He was once again thoroughly embarrassed in front of this angel of a person, more times this evening than he could count, and Stan was laughing at him.

The laugh wasn’t mean, however, and Stan grinned at him and took his hand. “Come on,” he said turning confidently over his shoulder and tossing Bill a wink over his shoulder. And with that, Bill is being dragged through the crowd once more behind this confident...well, stranger essentially.

When they make their way into the cramped bathroom and the door slams shut behind them, the shock of the difference in noise level is the first thing to hit him. The second is when Stan turns to face him and he realizes how close they are exactly. There’s not much room between the single stall with the broken door handle, the urinal to the left of it, and the sink on the other side of the room.

Stan is standing with his hand on his hip, sipping on what’s left of his drink through the straw and eyeing him up and down. Bill quickly busies himself with pulling paper towels from the dispenser. He can see now in the light of the bathroom that the wet spots on Stan’s shirt is a faded pink color from whatever juice had been in the drink and he feels doubly guilty.

He wrenches the cold water faucet on and dampens the paper towel before taking another step towards Stan.

“Fuck I’m s-suh-so sorry,” he says again, reaching out to dab at the shirt with the paper towel, before quickly retracting his hand at the last second. The thought of touching Stan’s chest suddenly overwhelming.

“You said that already,” Stan says with a smile, and reaches out. Bill moves to hand him the towel, but instead, Stan takes his hand and pulls it to him, placing Bill’s hand, and the towel along with it, over his damp chest. Bill can practically feel his pulse going wild, but he obediently continues to dab at the pink stain, growing more worried when it doesn’t show any signs of budging.

“Shit,” he hisses under his breath. “I fucking r-ru-ruined your shirt, I’m so s-sorry, I can buy you a n-new one…” but trails off as Stan is shaking with silent laughter.

“Stop apologizing, Bill,” he says kindly.

 _‘He remembers my name,’_ is all Bill can think as he’s stunned into silence.

“You don’t need to buy me a new shirt,” he says flirtatiously and there’s a suspicious glint in his eye. “I don’t mind taking it off,” he teases, reaching for the hem and Bill springs into action.

“No, no no no,” he says wide eyed, and then curses at himself internally at the slightly hurt expression on Stan’s face. “N-n-nuh-not that I d-don’t want to see, um...I d-do, just…” and he gives up on trying to explain himself, sure he must be beet red, and just starts undoing his own buttons. He has an undershirt anyway and Stan doesn’t have anything else.

He shucks his shirt off his shoulders and hands it to Stan before turning around and all but covering his eyes. He waits as there’s a moment of still silence before he hears the rustling of Stan pulling the shirt on, and he feels a tap on his shoulder.

He turns around only to find Stan standing in front of him with a smirk on his face, damp shirt in hand, and Bill’s shirt, loose and baggy in the shoulders and hanging open over his bare chest.

 _‘Oh my god is this how I’m going to die?’_ Bill asks himself, wishing he could bring himself to look anywhere but at Stan’s chest and abs, but unable to tear his eyes away.

Without thinking he stepped forward and grabbed at Stan’s (his own?) lapels and there was a moment where Stan looked incredibly pleased with himself before Bill began buttoning the shirt over his chest for him. Bill was too busy pointedly buttoning each button to notice the excited grin slip from Stan’s face and be replaced with a fond, but exasperated smile.

As Bill fastened the lowest button, being extremely careful not to touch Stan in any untoward places, he took a step back and looked him over once more. He was both relieved and somewhat disappointed to see him covered up, but he also thought he might _melt_ at the sight of Stan just _slightly_ swimming in his own button down. Sure, Stan was incredibly attractive, and if Bill was feeling more confident, he might even say sexy, but this man that he had just met a few hours earlier, pouting in Bill’s own shirt had to be the cutest thing he had ever seen in his life.

“Thanks,” Stan says in a low voice, taking another step closer to Bill’s so that they’re almost touching.

“No problem,” he mumbles breathlessly, and they’re so close that Bill can feel the dampness of Stan’s own shirt brushing against his arm. “Um, here,” he says taking a step back. “I’ll g-give you some money to r-ruh-replace your shirt,” and he reaches for his wallet in his back pocket.

“You really don’t have to do that, Bill,” Stan laughs and takes another step forward back into Bill’s space. “Really,” he insists, but as Bill is protesting, the wallet slips from his hand as he pulls it out of his pocket.

Along with it, a row of no less than three brightly colored condoms are pulled out with it, landing with a slap on the floor. Bill is mortified. He feels like he’s standing in the checkout line once again, except this time there’s no counter between them. When Bill finally gets the courage to look up from the condoms on the floor and back at Stan, a hot feeling pools in his lower body at the look on Stan’s face.

“So,” he starts, tilting his face up just slightly, and the smile on his face is small and wolfish and Bill can’t look away. He’s lifting up on his toes just slightly so that their lips are only inches away. “Are any of those cherry flavored?”

Bill’s brain short circuits at that. Stan is standing so close and he can feel the other man’s breath on his face and he can’t take it anymore. His hands fly up to hold Stan’s face between them and, screwing his eyes shut tight, he bridges the gap between their lips. He can’t believe he’s waited this long to kiss a man but he’s also so glad he did because now that he knows what kissing Stan is like, he can’t imagine kissing anyone else.

Stan lets out an appreciative groan almost as soon as Bill’s lips touch his and his hands are grabbing at Bill’s belt buckle. They make no move to unclasp it, but instead use it to pull Bill’s hips closer to his own, causing Bill to buck involuntarily into the touch. One of Bill’s hands finds it’s way into Stan’s tight curls as the other trails down to clutch at his waist, even now afraid to sink any lower in fear of being disrespectful.

Stan seems to read his mind though, and places his hand over Bill’s, sliding his hand down from Stan’s waist to cup his ass. Bill feels like jello that might collapse at any second and when Stan’s hand presses down on his own to make Bill’s fingers squeeze around Stan’s firm cheek, Bill groans helplessly into the other man’s mouth. Stan hums appreciatively in return, pressing back into the touch before his hips snap back to Bill’s.

When he’s sure Bill will leave his hands were they are without his instructions, Stan let’s one of his arms snake around Bill’s neck, grasping at the hair that hangs at the nape, and Bill finally breaks away, gasping for breath.

“ _How_ ,” Stan asks, leaning down to press a kiss to Bill’s throat, “have I never seen you here before?”

“I’ve n-never b-buh-been here before,” he replies, the nervous flush returning to his face as Stan stares at him, surprised.

“Mm, well you certainly came prepared,” he says, nodding to the condoms on the floor, and bends over, not bothering to step back or give Bill any space when he does so, to pick them up. When he stands back up he’s dangling the row of condoms from his thumb and forefinger, and grinning at Bill.

“You know,” he starts and can’t help but keep smiling at the embarrassed smile on Bill’s own face. “I was pretty disappointed that you didn’t take the receipt earlier. I was going to give you my number,” he explains, and almost laughs again at how Bill’s eyes bug out in shock. “But I’m glad that this is how we found each other again instead,” he presses himself back flush against Bill’s chest as he finishes and tears one of the condoms from the row.

Bill can’t help but notice that the wrapper is bright red as Stan puts it in his own pocket, and he jumps when he feels Stan’s hand pressing the other two back into Bill’s back pocket. And then leaves his hand there. If he didn’t know better he might think he was dreaming.

Instead of replying (because he doesn’t think he could form words to respond to that in the first pace), Bill just ducks his head once more to capture Stan’s lips in another kiss. This one is just as intense as the first and Stan’s lips are searing against his own. He gasps as Stan bites down on his lower lip and then Stan’s tongue is roaming around his mouth, wrapping itself around Bill’s and licking a bone chilling stripe along the roof of his mouth. He shivers into the touch and grips at Stan’s hips. Stan is already half hard, Bill can feel it through his shorts, and when Stan presses their hips together, he realizes that he is as well.

The moan that escapes his lips at the touch is at a higher pitch than he can ever remember making before and he almost doesn’t realize it was him until Stan breaks away from his mouth to chuckle low in his ear.

“You wanna get out of here?” he whispers, his breath tickling Bill’s skin. “This dirty bathroom isn’t exactly on my top five list of places to have sex with cute guys I meet at work.”

Bill laughs into Stan’s neck, and starting to feel a bit more confident, whispers back.

“Do you m-make h-h-habit of it to fuck your c-cust-t-tomers?” he teases, and gasps a little as Stan’s hips press back into his.

“Only the cute ones who stutter and get their sex tips from _Cosmo_ ,” he murmurs and Bill laughs, letting his forehead fall to Stan’s shoulders. “You know, hiding your condoms with shit from the queue is the oldest trick in the book...it’s not even a trick anymore, really.”

Bill kisses Stan’s neck softly, too giddy at the feeling of having Stan pressed up against him, to do anything but just roll with the embarrassment at this point.

* * *

 

As soon as they pile out of the uber Stan called under the glow of the streetlamps outside of Stan’s apartment, they’re on each other again. Stan lives in a cute duplex just outside of downtown and he promises Bill that his roommates won’t be home for hours, so they have _plenty of time_. Bill is both excited and incredibly anxious at the prospect and isn’t sure exactly which one is going to win out, when he follows Stan up the steps and through the entryway.

There are old framed cross stitch pieces of herbs and other cooking accoutrements lining the walls of the kitchen that Bill notices out of the corner of his eyes in the moments before Stan presses him against the refrigerator to kiss him again and then he’s being dragged through the living room, where the walls are lined with shelves of vinyl, and finally up the stairs to what Bill can only assume is Stan’s room.

Which is...not what he expected. The walls are a pale yellow, almost white, and the bedspread is a muted grey. There’s a bookshelf in the corner, right next to a desk covered with textbooks and notebooks, and the walls are lined with what look like handmade watercolor illustrations of birds. The room is impeccably organized - if it wasn’t for the open textbook on the desk, Bill thinks it could be mistaken for a room in a model home, but Stan is full of surprises it seems.

Stan comes up behind him as he stares at the watercolors and Bill can feel his breath on his neck as Stan’s hands gently grip his hips.

He turns around to look at Stan and now that they’re standing here in his bedroom, Bill is starting to lose the confidence he had been gaining in the club’s cramped bathroom. This is entirely different - he’s seeing a part of Stan’s life now and he’s realizing that he _really_ doesn’t want this to be a one time thing. He actually wants to see more of it. He smiles at the man in front of him, leaning down to press another kiss to his lips, but this one is much sweeter and softer than the others that they had shared leading up to this point.

Stan seems to sense his hesitance and squeezes his hand.

“Do you wanna watch something, maybe?” he asks, nodding at the TV across from the bed. There’s still heat behind his smile but he seems to be toning it down a bit and Bill is grateful for it. He knows he should be thrilled that Stan wants to have sex with him - and he is! He knows he should have ripped his clothes off the minute they came in the door probably, and he hopes that Stan wouldn’t see the change of pace and think he was a loser.

He nods gratefully, and flushes slightly as Stan smirks at him before turning to grab the remote. He watches from his post by the door as Stan pulls up Netflix and crawls up onto the bed, stretching out languidly and looking at Bill expectantly.

“Are you gonna join me,” he asks, patting the open space next to him on the bed. “Or are you gonna just stand there all night and leave me high and dry?” he teases.

Bill chuckles and scratches at the back of his neck anxiously but nods, toeing off his shoes and placing them neatly by the door before climbing into the bed beside Stan. He leans against the pillows, careful to leave a few inches between them, feeling like he’d lost the moment of closeness they’d had and not wanting to offend him.

But Stan seemed to have other plans in mind, and mere moments later he was pulling Bill down to the bed and wrapping Bill’s arms around his waist. Bill smiles into his shoulder, and takes the remote that Stan is handing him. Netflix is already pulled up and he can see Stan’s most recently watched shows which seem to be a combination of Netflix originals and documentaries about birds. He smiles at the thought of Stan sitting in bed and watching _‘The Life of Birds’_ , and decides to pull up one of his own favorites, hoping Stan won’t make too much fun of him.

He figures he’s humiliated himself enough in front of this man tonight, and Stan still let him into his apartment, so his movie choices hopefully won’t make too much of a difference.

Stan snorts as he sees what Bill is pulling up, _‘The Truth Behind: UFOs’_ but just burrows his back closer to Bill’s chest, so Bill presses play. They lay there in each other's’ arms for a few minutes as the documentary starts and Bill begins to relax again, listening to the familiar stories he’s heard before.

Stan, however, is hardly paying any attention to the film, and it’s not long before he’s trying to discretely press his ass back into Bill’s hips. The first time it happens, Bill is sure he’s imagining it, and then when it happens again, he tells himself it wasn’t intentional, and keeps listening to the UFO Hunter on the screen, chin resting on Stan’s shoulder.

_“The holy grail for UFO hunters is finding a real flying saucer, or a ship I should say, and taking pictures of it, touching it, or getting a physical alien that you can shake hands with, and take pictures.”_

At that Stan lets out a chuckle, but Bill doesn’t have a chance to be bothered because Stan is pressing back against his hips in a way that is definitely not an accident, and excitement is pooling in his stomach once again though it’s mixing somewhat unpleasantly with the anxiety that has been slowly building. But Stan doesn’t do anything else after that and Bill doesn’t mention it. He’s having a hard time focusing on the documentary now though, and he hopes that Stan can’t tell.

 _“It’s always exciting to go out on a hunt,”_ the man on the screen is saying, and Bill tries to focus his attention away from his dick and back to the film. _“It’s another possibility that I may find something that I’ve been looking for for so many years.”_

At that Stan rolls his hips back once more and turns over in Bill’s arms, and this time he kisses Bill. Hard and fast, seeming like he’s trying to reignite what they had had going on in the bathroom, and Bill can feel the panic rising. He feels like such an asshole.

He’s not ready for this.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps breaking away from Stan’s lips and putting his hands on the other man’s chest, feeling a twist in his chest at the confused look on Stan’s face. “I...I c-c-cuh-can’t do this, I’m s-sorry.” He babbles.

Stan’s face is twisting into a combination of hurt and disappointment and Bill’s panic takes a different turn.

“I w-want to!” he stammers, desperate for Stan to stop looking so upset. “I s-suh-swear, I do I’m just...not r-ready,” he adds, and this time the humiliation is a bit much to handle. He’s twenty two for god’s sake, he should be able to go to a bar and hook up with someone who he is _incredibly_ attracted to without panicking, but this whole night has just been a bit much for him to handle.

But Stan’s expression is softening, and Bill takes another breath.

“I’d like to t-t-take you out first,” he mumbles, and understanding blossoms on Stan’s face. “P-puh-p-properly, you know? Like on a real d-date...If that’s okay?” he asks, wanting to bury his face in his hands.

 _‘You’re such an idiot,’_ he tells himself. _‘You ruined it. There’s no way this guy is gonna want to actually date you.’_

But when he braves a glance at Stan, he’s surprised to see Stan smiling warmly at him, still slightly disappointed but not looking upset at all.

“You apologize too much,” Stan tells him quietly, and leans in to press a chaste kiss to his lips, a far cry from their kisses in the bathroom and much more in line with what Bill can handle right now. He practically melts in relief into the touch and allows Stan’s lips to linger on his. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Stan reassures him, and Bill doesn’t think he’s ever been more relieved in his life. “Besides, you owe me a drink anyway.”

Bill laughs and kisses him again, quick and sweet.

“D-do you want to w-watch something different?” he asks quietly after a moment of amiable silence, sure that Stan isn’t really feeling his UFO documentary, but Stan surprises him with his answer.

“Of course not,” he says, and rolls over in Bill’s arms to face the TV. “I wanna hear all about your dumb conspiracies,” he teases, and Bill knows he’s not actually making fun of him.

He dozes off in Stan’s neck a few times throughout the movie, and when the credits roll Stan kisses him awake.

“Do you w-w-want me to go home?” he offers. “I d-don’t want to be a buh-bother to your room-m-mates.”

Stan shakes his head. “You’re not getting away that easily,” he replies. “Mike and Richie won’t get back from the club until three at the earliest, and Eddie won’t get off his shift at the hospital until noon. They won’t even notice you’re here,” he reassures, and Bill smiles as Stan tightens his grip on Bill’s waist.

“Besides,” he continues, his tone taking on a now familiar, teasing tone. “you haven’t even given me your number yet. How are you going to teach me how to please _you_ if you leave and I don’t have a way to contact you?”

They both crumple into fits of laughter and a tangle of limbs, dissolving into soft kisses.

Bill thinks as he falls asleep that he might have to text Bev a thank you in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeahhhh so like I said, this got away from me lmao. They were definitely supposed to do the do but then Donnie and I had other plans lmao. If y'all are into it and I have time I might do a part two, so let me know!


End file.
